


Mental Hospital AU

by wren_dean



Category: Heathers (1988), Pump Up the Volume (1990)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Anxiety Disorder, Autism Spectrum, Bipolar Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Everyone Is Gay, Jason "J. D." Dean Gets Help, Jason ''J. D.'' Dean Lives, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Self-Harm, Social Anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:07:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24084826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wren_dean/pseuds/wren_dean
Summary: At the end of their respective canons, J.D. and Mark end up in a high-security mental hospital far from home. Both at their lowest point and with nothing to lose, they find themselves stuck in the same room together. Little to their knowledge, the healing they both desperately need would be found in the most unexpected of places.
Relationships: Jason "J. D." Dean/Mark Hunter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Mental Hospital AU

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story contains serious and potentially triggering topics such as: self harm, suicide, mental illness, abuse, and etc. Also, please keep in mind that the depictions of various mental disorders and struggles throughout this story may not be accurate. I do as much research as I can, but as I have not personally experienced many of these issues I can't guarantee that they are completely accurate. So please take these depictions with a grain of salt and know that my intention is not to demean or degrade any persons with these disorders. Thank you, and enjoy! :)

_The room was awfully bland. Four white plaster walls with two doors: one leading to the bright bleached hallways, and the other to a small bathroom. There were two beds, though only one was occupied. In between the beds was a pathetic window above a small, wooden nightstand. It had a beige lamp and a portable radio sitting on top of it. Next to this nightstand was a boy crouched on his bed, staring out of the window._

A strong-built yet exhausted boy was crouched on the edge of his bed. It was his favorite pass-time; the only one he had here, in fact: staring out the window. In this time he had many thoughts, most of which were flint-strikers, sparking the embers of rage; the rage that was the reason he was in here in the first place. Of course he was angry, who wouldn’t be? 

He had no one anymore, but did he ever have anybody? He scoffed and shook his head, chuckling slightly. He didn’t deserve anybody. And he knew that. _I’m not_ that _crazy, despite what these fuckheads think. At least I know I’m a lost cause_. He breathed out a sigh, as if that air would somehow expel the thoughts that were flooding his head. He knew he had been a lost cause since his mom died; doomed to be another bug on the sidewalk, another psycho in the loonie-bin, another violent freak. He could remember the trials clearly; it was only a week or so ago now.

 _“If you_ could go back in time, would you do it again?” The woman asked. Her yellow teeth flashed in the sharp light of the interrogation room, dark brown curls reminiscent of rotten food and gaze scanning his face, trying desperately to study him. J.D. gave nothing in return. He sat leaned back in the chair with his arms crossed and expression cold. 

_Trying to figure out if I’m crazy,_ he gathered, squinting his eyes. A slight smirk flashed on his face. 

“Yes,” he spoke casually, gaze locked on the woman. It was the truth, what could he say? He wasn’t a liar, he thought to himself, chuckling slightly. “I would do it again, but win time.”

 _I would win this time,_ the boy recalled his own words as he was sent back to his bed now. Every day he was recalling something about that day. It was as if his mind was trying to make him reevaluate it all, and yet he stood by everything. 

J.D. stood up suddenly, pacing around the room, his eyes locked on the floor now. _Everything. I stand by everything._ _They all deserved it._

His lawyer had set him up with an insanity plea. One that he almost didn’t take, but the strength to stay alive somehow remained inside him. Though he knew he deserved to die, dying by the electric chair seemed much more mundane compared to his last attempt. _Why didn’t it fucking work?_

xxx

 _The only sound_ was the buzzing of the lights and the tap of shoes down the impossibly long hallway. Behind the short boy was a guard whose looming presence and heavy footsteps made his back shiver. Walking beside him was Harry, who was, expectedly, smug as ever. His feet made no sound, but he was as real as himself.

Mark forced himself to anticipate the room he was being sent to. Would it be padded, like you see in the movies? Small? Large? Would he have a roommate, even?

“You _have_ a roommate, dipshit.” Harry sneered. The other boy adjusted his glasses, muttering in annoyance. “You’re nothing new.”

The short boy had desperately tried to make an optimist of the situation, though Harry had the opposite goal. _They’re gonna beat you, yaknow? Probably feed you slop. They do anything to the loonies, once you’re in here you got no rights_ . Was he right? Maybe. But Mark had reasoned that this place must be better than prison, anyway. The guard suddenly crossed the hallway, stopping at a white hospital door adorned with a tiny bulletproof window. He felt the butterflies in his stomach fly up his throat. _This is it. This is where I’ll be stuck for a long, long time_.


End file.
